


Casting Shadows

by cerie



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus/Watson.  Set in the 1890s, Helen aims to seduce James and James has different ideas entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casting Shadows

Helen Magnus was, if nothing else, a determined creature. James had seen that first hand on many occasions - researching the Source blood, gaining admission to Oxford and tracking Druitt had only been a few examples. He had never expected that determination to be turned upon him, though, and had never expected it to take quite this turn.

Helen Magnus, also, was stubborn and full of surprises.

James was settled in her father’s study, of all places, poring over ancient Indian texts on the origin and eventual extinction of vampires. Dry reading for all the subject was interesting and when a shadow fell upon his page, James was glad for a reason to look up. He did not anticipate the sight before him to be quite so startling or, he was ashamed to admit, quite so erotic.

Helen stood before him in a gauzy nightgown, hair let down from its elaborate chignon and a lamp in her left hand that rendered the soft, white cotton absolutely translucent. James could see a flush on her creamy, porcelain skin and dusky rose nipples pressing against the thin fabric. His first thought was that of concern. If Helen had come to him in such a state of undress, surely something must have been wrong. He frowned, eyes lifting up to meet hers.

“Helen? Whatever is the matter? Has John come back or your father taken ill?” Helen’s face shifted, inexplicably, from mild disappointment to irritation and back to a cool and calm mask. Most curious, that series of reactions, and James settled back into his chair and decided to just listen and watch for a moment instead of making his own assumptions. Deduction, after all, was half the game and possibly the more important part; it required only for one to see the evidence placed before him instead of inventing scenarios entirely out of thin air.

“No, nothing’s the matter. Honestly, you’d think I was fainting all over the place with the way you act. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself _and_ John should he decide to darken my door. No, I’m here on personal business and considering you’ve ensconced yourself in _my_ house, I should just as well ask you what’s the matter.”

Helen was incredibly flustered, to James’ eyes, and the flush on her cheeks had spread into splotches down her neck and chest. Something had her incredibly unsettled and since it was neither John nor her father, James supposed it might have something to do with him. She had sought him out and, furthermore, seemed incredibly put out that he happened to be in her house. Most curious.

“I’ve a proposition. Seeing as how we are both adults in a considerable state of health and in possession of very little time to pursue personal matters, our work might be furthered if we exercise our carnal urges with one another, on a strictly business basis, for the time being. I thought, perhaps, if you were amenable, we could have intercourse no less than twice per week, work permitting?” Helen was relatively cool and calm in her delivery though there was a bare hint of tremble beneath her tone. James, for his part, let out a sharp laugh.

“Helen, I know John Druitt misused you in many ways but I never thought he would teach you that sex was solely for the release of uncontrollable urges. My darling girl, there is absolutely no way I would take you to bed on terms like that.”

John was a sensitive subject with Helen and James normally had the foresight not to mention him but she’d caught him off guard this evening. She huffed slightly and spun on her heel, meaning to march back upstairs and spend the rest of the evening presumably alone but James reached for her wrist, brushing his thumb against the inside lightly. Helen was a beautiful woman, if a bit misguided about the purpose of sex in a young woman’s life, and James had long cared for her and loved her. He loved her even before John Druitt had made his pursuit common knowledge and James had been crestfallen to discover she and his best friend had been engaging in a clandestine tryst. James himself had thought to propose to her, long ago, and now he thought Helen too broken by her lost love to even consider her that way.

But it seemed Helen had other ideas about her desirability and she’d made her offer without the knowledge of his feelings or any real conception of how the relationship she was proposing between them would even work. James had been with a woman before without expectation of love or marriage and Helen simply wasn’t the sort of woman one engaged in such things with. Helen was meant to be cherished and loved, not used for fun and put away until such a time as fun were needed again.

“Then I suppose I will retire for the evening if you can trouble yourself to release my hand?” Helen’s voice was shaking now and James suspected there were equal parts embarrassment and anger in it and he hated that. There was no sense in being embarrassed about something she wanted and he’d not meant to cause her any pain. He drew her wrist to his mouth, kissing the inside of it in a way that was sensual without being overtly seductive. A woman like Helen was meant for more than what she asked of him and he hated that she felt she needed to frame her terms in such a way.

“No, Helen. You misread me. I simply...you are meant for much more than to be used and discarded once a night’s pleasure is done. You mean much more to me than that and while I can, and have, taken a woman solely for what you ask of me, I cannot do that with you. Coming to bed with me means giving me your heart, Helen, and I can accept no less than that. Perhaps if you were someone else, yes, but not with you.”

Helen wrenched her hand away and shook her head, the violent motion tossing her curls over her shoulder and causing them to catch the light in a fetching way. James loved her hair. He loved every last inch of Helen Magnus and while it was a card he’d never intended to reveal, it was on the table now. It was up to her what she chose to do with it and this evening, at least, it seemed she wasn’t terribly accepting of his feelings.

“I won’t do this, James. I loved John and you see how that ended up. Part of me dreams that John will return to me, sane and healthy and the man I love once more. My rational mind knows that he never will but I must cling to hope for fear of going mad. In the interim, I don’t think it’s so terrible to want someone to make me feel good for once. I miss that. I miss sharing a bed with a man and I’m sorry the only man I’ve ever been with was John and you seem to think that means you have to take some special care with me or that I am unfit for a relationship of this nature. I assure you, that is not the case.”

Sometimes, James suspected, Helen didn’t actually listen to anyone. She got an idea in her head about what she wanted and when she encountered rejection, she twisted the words to suit her own distorted view of the situation. In this instance, it was his own love for her that prevented him from taking her to bed and it had nothing at all to do with John Druitt or thinking Helen was sullied or less in some way. If anything, she was more for having come through love and loss.

“Helen, this has nothing to do with you. Still, if you want to be stubborn, go up to bed and convince yourself I don’t want you. When you’re able to listen and see reason, please take my feelings about you into account before flouncing down here and presenting yourself like a common whore. You are so much more than what you think you are and I won’t go to bed with you until you see that.”

Helen muttered a curse beneath her breath and practically flew up the stairs. James reached for a decanter of brandy and tipped it back, eschewing a glass in favor of delivering it straight down his throat; perhaps the burn of alcohol would eliminate his keen disappointment that everything about _this_ situation had somehow gone awry. Really, he’d think a woman would be more excited to hear a man loved her.

***

James didn’t hear from Helen for weeks after that particular incident and calling upon the Magnus home had resulted in the door being shut in his face. He’d managed to pass a note along to Gregory who’d sent one back, curt, that until Helen said otherwise, James Watson was not allowed in the house. James wanted to be cross about that except it was damned laughable the way that woman had every man in her life wrapped around her finger and he decided, instead, to wait her out.

It seemed her anger was more of the frosty sort that needed to defrost instead of the hot temper John had, though, and waiting Helen out proved to be futile. As it inched toward Christmas, James began trying to coax her out in earnest: invitations to skate, to carol, to see an opera. It was only the last that seemed to do something to pique her interest and he received a short, one sentence note passed from her maid to him in the street that conceded to his invitation provided Nigel accompanied them. Progress, though only a bit.

The opera itself was inconsequential, as James had no intention of actually watching it. He’d asked for Helen to meet him there instead of calling upon her at home and he used the leverage of not wanting to make a scene when she protested about Nigel not being present. He’d asked him, of course, and Nigel had personal business that had come up quite suddenly. Helen was a bright woman and James didn’t believe for a moment that she bought it. Still, she’d conceded to stay and once the show was in progress and the lights had gone down, James drew her into his arms. The benefit, of course, of private boxes was that there was plenty of time and opportunity to do what one desired.

Helen was stiff at first and turned her head to look at him in surprise. “What on ear...” James silenced her with two fingers pressed against her lips and Helen quieted and settled back into his arms. The box had a couch, perfectly sized for a couple very much in love to sit upon it and while he and Helen were on tentative terms at the moment, it suited his purposes just fine. 

They were well into the second act before James tilted her head and drew his lips down the slim, white column of her neck. Helen had always had a beautiful and graceful neck and James had always wanted to kiss and mark it, even when she’d belonged to John. Perhaps especially when she belonged to John but that was neither here nor there. Helen meant to have him on her terms and James hadn’t liked those terms: redrawing the lines was necessary.

“James, we’re in public.” Her voice was low and drowsy and James muffled a laugh against her skin as he slid one hand down to trace along her neckline with the pads of his fingers. Her skin was supple and smooth, soft in a way that few things James had ever touched had been and he simply wanted more. Helen Magnus was a bewitching and intoxicating creature and he’d been under her spell for far longer than he cared to admit. He pressed his lips against her ear before sliding his hand down to cup her breast through her gown.

“I know. It’s precisely my point, actually, because you cannot push this further than it needs to go for fear of damaging our reputations. I can show you how good it might feel to be with me, oh yes, but this simply cannot go past a few kisses and caresses no matter how much you might want it. In this, at least, I control the board and you, my queen, are in check.”

Helen whimpered and arched into his hand, asking for more without giving the words, and James conceded to that. It wouldn’t be much here in the box, oh no, but he did draw the lobe of her ear between his lips to suck and tease and was grateful Helen hadn’t worn earrings. He wished there was a way to get beneath her dress but it simply wasn’t feasible and he refused to undress her. Not here. Not his Helen.

Instead, he pressed her further down into his lap and let her feel just how hard he was for her, how much he wanted her, and Helen let out a short, sharp gasp. She could feel, even through her dress and his trousers, and she wanted it. He wanted it too, yes, but it would wait until such a time as she could acquiesce to his terms and the boundaries were redrawn. Rather like negotiating a treaty, wooing Helen Magnus, and James wondered if his skills in diplomacy were up to the task.

***

Extricating himself from Helen’s arms to escort her back to the coach took some doing but James reminded himself that this was, in fact, going to turn out well. He needed but play the long game and woo Helen and she would eventually realize that being loved wasn’t a bad thing. That loving him, sharing love - these were things anyone was entitled to and she most certainly deserved them even if her first attempts at love had resulted in loss.

Once he helped Helen into the coach, he ducked out for a moment to ask the driver to drive them around for a few turns. A coach was hardly the most private place but James’ driver was discreet and the coach would afford them privacy the opera house wouldn’t. That bit of business handled, James slipped back inside and gave Helen a sly grin.

“I do believe we’ve a bit of time on our hands, then. Shall we continue?” Helen’s face was flushed in the dark and she nodded, curls tumbling from her elaborate bun and framing her face in a comely way. It had been years since anyone had touched her and it was a travesty considering Helen was young and beautiful. James found he wanted to erase as much of John’s touch as he possibly could and he deftly undid the row of buttons along her back and loosened her stays before turning Helen back to face him.

She looked amazing and James wanted terribly to simply have her in the coach. Helen wouldn’t deny him, especially considering she’d long since made an overture to him, but he wouldn’t. Not everything. Not without the words. Instead, he pushed down the bodice of her gown and tugged her into his lap before lowering his head to kiss and suck at her breast. Helen wound her fingers into his hair and tugged, causing James to laugh and lavish her with every sensation he could contrive. His lips, tongue and teeth teasing and coaxing her nipple into hardness, his beard scraping against sensitive porcelain skin, his hand cupping and teasing her other breast: all were pressed into service in order to bring Helen to the height of pleasure.

“James, James _please_.” He lifted his head to see Helen breathless and needy, eyes dilated and dark in pleasure. She was beautiful, insanely so, and he simply couldn’t press this further tonight. He kissed her though, long and deep, and brushed his thumb tenderly against her chin when he broke it.

“No further tonight. I’ll have my words first.”

***

Things with Helen were going well, even if they weren’t at the pace she apparently preferred. James had escorted her to every event over the holidays and they’d made quite a stunning pair at a New Years’ gala given at the palace. Helen, for once, looked _happy_ and James was a bit smug that he’d had a hand in it. This was more like what he wanted, after all, and bringing Helen around to his point of view could only be considered a victory.

He hadn’t intended to call upon her this evening, though, having chosen his work instead. He’d been wrapped up in a volume by Gregory from a long-ago trip to India and the sudden rap of knuckles against his door had startled him enough that he’d spilled a cup of long-cooled tea in his haste to answer it. James would be cross except Helen was on the other side of it and looked stricken. Her father? Had he taken ill? Or...

“John, John’s back in London,” Helen blurted out, stepping over the threshold and into James’ parlor with very little warning. She was normally the very model of a genteel woman and would have waited, possibly indefinitely, for his invitation so this was clearly a very rattled and upset Helen. James slid his arm around her waist and kissed her temple lightly, aiming to calm her.

“Has he touched you? Has he harmed you?”

James’ heart sunk when she nodded and pulled away slightly to tug off her gloves. There were angry bruises against the soft skin of her wrist and he wondered where else John had laid his hands on her. James couldn’t understand hurting a woman, ever, but especially not Helen who did nothing but love John Druitt with every fiber of her being. She loved him, gave him her heart, and he repaid it in hate.

“Please tell me he didn’t take you by force?” Helen shook her head, eyes downcast, and James let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t known how John’s hate manifested against Helen but he’d hoped she hadn’t been subjected to that indignity. That he’d touched her against her will was bad enough. If he’d forced her, James would be hard pressed not to seek him out and plant a bullet between his eyes.

He kissed her forehead lightly. “He won’t come here, Helen, and you’re safe with me. You are always safe with me.”

Helen turned in his arms and cupped his face, kissing him fiercely. James hadn’t been anticipating that, exactly, but he couldn’t help but return it. He wanted to show her every last ounce of affection in hopes it would erase what Druitt had threatened her with and while he’d been restraining himself these past weeks, James thrust his hands into her hair and gave her all of himself. Perhaps it was imprudent, considering Helen hadn’t told him that she loved him, but James could do nothing less. Not when that monster had touched her again.

And, perhaps worse, that monster was someone even he still held dear. If it had been someone nameless and faceless, James would hardly be so wound up but it was _John_ , a man he once and still loved like a brother. James pushed that from his mind and decided to focus on Helen instead, on making her feel good and salvaging something of a night that had terrified her.

James slid his hand into hers and squeezed lightly before leading her upstairs to his rooms. He’d have preferred to do this in hers, in letting her have the comfort of her bed and the familiarity of her things on the first night they made love but somehow, this was better. She’d been with John in her bed as often as she’d been with him in his and James knew for a fact neither of them had ever used this bed for that. It would be a blank slate, wiped clean, and their story could be written upon it without John marring it. 

James made quick work of her clothes and his, wanting to draw her into his arms as soon as he possibly could. Once they were bare, he pulled her into bed next to him and slid his hand along the curve of her waist and hip. Helen was still trembling, afraid, and she buried her face against his neck and sobbed. James knew much of it had to do with John but part of him feared that somehow it had something to do with him as well, with the way he’d played this game instead of giving her the solace she’d been seeking.

“Shh, darling. You’ll be all right, he can’t touch you here. Nothing can touch you here with me, I swear it.” 

Helen kissed his shoulder before pushing at him to roll him to his back. James allowed it, this time, hands cupping her hips as she shifted to straddle him and sink down against him. He loved her even before this but, now, there was simply no way he could continue going through life without loving her openly and he hoped Helen would concede to his feelings even if she wouldn’t admit to having feelings of her own.

Helen tipped her head back in pleasure, hips rolling and snapping in a rhythm that was a perfect match to his own and James wondered if this, somehow, did anything to erase what harm had been visited upon her tonight.

He prayed that it did.

***

“You’re a bloody idiot, James,” Helen clucked, jabbing the needle in with nothing approaching delicacy. He tried not to wince, always a bad idea when one had a needle sliding through one’s flesh, and mostly succeeded in that endeavor. Seventy-five stitches, thus far, and James cursed both his eidetic memory and attention to detail; a normal man would have long since succumbed to alcohol and forgotten this pain.

“He hurt you. I had to do what I could.” In hindsight, it had been stupid to go chasing after John and he’d nearly bled out for his troubles before Helen found him in an alley some distance from home. It seemed (based on what she’d told him through gritted teeth between patching wounds) that she was intimately familiar with John’s favorite haunts in London and when she’d woken up to find thatJames had left bed, she suspected the worse. James had always prided Helen on her keen intellect and this time it had benefited him. 

“Idiot all the same. John has no qualms about murdering men or women and considering he’d made a good run at killing me last night, going after him when he already had his temper up was merely borrowing trouble. I can’t...it’s one thing if he harms me but I cannot suffer him to harm someone I love. _Please_ try to remember that?”

It was hard to smile with a bruised and bloody face but James managed a poor attempt at it, his swollen eye sending a sharp bloom of pain through his face when his lip turned up. She loved him and hadn’t even realized she said it, like as not, and he couldn’t help but be satisfied by that. It had been all he’d wanted, after all, and while he’d hoped that would come to fruition without damn near getting murdered, James would take it as is.

“And why are you so pleased with yourself? The stakes are so much higher than a schoolboy’s games, James. He could have killed you.”

James brushed his fingers against her wrist. “You’ve just said you loved me, Helen Magnus. I cannot help but be pleased by this turn of events.”

Helen narrowed her eyes and huffed slightly, exasperated, before bending her head to start on a fresh line of stitches. While she was thus occupied, she spoke, and James had to turn his head slightly to hear her.

“Of course I love you, James. I was simply too stubborn to admit it. Try not to get yourself killed in the future?”

He would try, assiduously, to accommodate her request.


End file.
